Away to the Slaughter
by Alice Kenna
Summary: A series of vignettes chronicling life in Panem, and uncovering secrets about various characters in The Hunger Games.
1. Chapter 1

Carolae Mellark had never set out to be a hostile person, but when

she peeked out from underneath her veil on their wedding day,

she could see it in his eyes that he still loved the other girl. He

always had. The coal miner's wife.

And she turned cold. Her heart shattered, because she knew that

no matter what she did she would never be good enough. Her

husband was a sweet and caring man, but there was no gleam in

his eyes when he called her name. It was never her face that he

wanted to see stepping through the door.

She masked her feelings year after year, but the emotion built up

inside of her: a knot growing by the day, each hour it becoming

more impossible to untangle.

Did she regret what she had done? That was a question that never

left her thoughts. It lingered, lingered like the smell of dandelions

in the field that crisp August morning. The agreement she had

made with a certain Peacekeeper. The guilt that she kept hidden

inside. It lingered like the soot on the bodies of the men as they

were carried from the mines. The blood on her hands from the life

of the man who had killed her everyday, although they had never

even exchanged hellos. Lingered like the hatred she felt for the

woman who held the heart of her husband. Lingered like the

sorrow that had haunted that woman ever since.

Regret was a word she would never truly understand.


	2. Chapter 2

She hurled a rock across the room and into the mirror. The

shattering of the glass was the only thing that seemed real right

now. She ran for the shards and scraped them all off the black

wood that lay behind. She used all the strength she had left and

squeezed them between her hands, letting the blood drip over her

arms, her clothes. She buried her face in her palms and sobbed, the

first sound that she'd made since it had happened. Her tears

stained red as she curled into a shaking ball in the cold, silent

darkness.

She was gone. The only thing that had mattered to her. Her baby,

her friend, her sister, the one person she loved with her whole

heart. She hated that girl from District 12 who was able to save her

sister. She was nineteen and had to watch with feigned excitement

as they stole hers away.

They say that where we come from, being picked as tribute is an

honor, but they know nothing about honor.

They can never bring back Clove.

.


	3. Chapter 3

_He left, I ran. I ran as fast and as far as I could, I had to get away. The flames filled the streets, engulfing buildings, turning memories to ashes. I heard his shouting, but he was gone._

_I woke up in a hospital in District 4. Goodness knows how I got there, but I did. I had been asleep, in a coma that is, for longer than they could remember. Putting one hand on my shoulder, a doctor knelt beside me, a look of pity in his eyes. It was then that I looked down to see that I was seated in a wheelchair, and, as he informed me, I had lost all ability to move from the waist down._

_Lucky to be alive, at least, I still tell myself. I've taken to photography, and I enjoy the peace of the district. As a beautiful bird sweeps by, I focus my lens, but something stops me. I hear a voice, I see a smile. Cautious at first, but then he runs to me, faster than I could have imagined. I want to run too, but I can't. Instead, he lifts me from my chair and spins me around. He smells like strawberries and home, and I feel safe._

_Gale & Madge_


	4. Chapter 4

The water consumes my vision and I gasp for air. Your voice tells me to stay afloat. It is murky and dark, and I am cold and alone. I scream out for help, call your name, but no one is here to help me.

Sometimes he asks me why I sit like I do, why I cover my ears. But most days, he simply covers my hands with his own, and raises my face so that our eyes meet.

"Mommy, why don't we draw pictures? The sun is out, and we can sit on the beach with the waves."

Suddenly, the water is gone; I am no longer choking for air, gulping down the brine.

He takes my hand in his and leads me down to the shore where we sit and laugh, sketching pictures of Daddy's big boat, and the colorful fish that swim beside it. He has your hair Fin, your eyes, and he has your smile. He saves me, saves me like you did, like you do. He holds my hand at night, he reads me stories he has written, draws me pictures of the sea, sings me songs from his school, whispers in my ear to tell me that everything is all right.

And somehow you know this without me having to tell you.

"Mommy, look what I made you today." I let his tiny hands tie the final knot on the rope around my wrist.


End file.
